


And if I only could, I’d make a deal with God

by LaFemmePoeme



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Academic Women Are Hot, Because I Want A Story About That For A Change, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Gonna Get A Lil' Angsty At Some Point, Might Include A Raunchier Chapter....We'll See, Reader Is In the Humanities Instead of STEM, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:49:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaFemmePoeme/pseuds/LaFemmePoeme
Summary: And to think that all of this nonsense began from insomnia, unconventional work shoes that cause blisters, and the seemingly inconsequential encounter of two women living above and among the streets of New York City. And look where it brought you. Where she brought you.(This fic is lesbian self-fulfillment shut up)
Relationships: Olivia Octavius/Reader
Kudos: 14





	And if I only could, I’d make a deal with God

**Author's Note:**

> STEM gf + Humanities gf = a wonderful enemies-to-lovers opportunity AND an eventual power couple, change my mind.   
> Note: I'm not American, or from an English-speaking country for that matter, I don't know jack shit about the American academic world. I just need academic lesbians. Title from Running Up That Hill(A Deal With God) by Kate Bush.

And to think that all of this nonsense began from insomnia, unconventional work shoes that cause blisters, and the seemingly inconsequential encounter of two women living above and among the streets of New York City.

Sleepless nights were not a revolutionary experience in the life of an academic such as yourself. They provided ample opportunities for philosophizing, worrying over tomorrow’s lectures or letting the unending void of your lonely, withering heart consume you. But checking whether or not you had your shoes in the right place was not among your usual insomniac activities.

It was a drab, grey morning that had you rising out of bed with aching joints and a deep black hatred for existence; a hatred deeper than the one you held for the morning news anchor, blacker than the espresso brewing in your kitchen. Yet as deep and immobilizing as that hatred might’ve been, skipping out on earning your daily bread was simply out of the question, so off to work it was. Somehow, the University always tempted you to fall back into its embrace, like the arms of a lover you frankly didn’t have.

Which was fine. You were an adult, you didn’t need lovers like a foolish teenager would. Of course you didn’t.

With the taste of coffee still lingering on your tongue, you rushed into the closet to rummage for a nice pair of work shoes. They needed to be comfortable yet give you a cool and professional aura. You were running late, and though your students would forgive the slight tardiness, it was a bad habit you wanted to weed out. A good professor was never late to her own lecture. 

Sighing in defeat, you grabbed the only pair available that wouldn’t completely fry your feet, which happened to be a sleek, black pair of stilettos, while silently cursing your own impressive capability to misplace shoes. While speeding into the lift, you decided to let the scolding wait. You had places to be and lecturing to do.

\---------------------

Doctor Olivia Octavius was a busy woman, both out of necessity and her own choice. Being the CEO of Alchemax, keeping up two identities, pursuing her own passions and nurturing a bit of a god complex; all of it demanded quite a bit of her attention and effort. And she certainly didn’t complain, why would she? It was in the process of research and scientific study that she thrived, all else was a waste of her time and brilliance. 

However, on the rare occasion her mind was unoccupied, Olivia found herself wondering about a multitude of things. Past lovers that had long since faded from immediate memory, long afternoons in the library, the rattling of train carriages in the night. Distant as these moments were, Olivia found herself drawn to them, if not somewhat reluctantly. And on one of these whims of her often forgotten heart, she found herself striding through the campus of good old Columbia University on a grey Monday afternoon, submerged in her own musings.

Olivia often considered her work to be her closest companion. Science was a capricious yet generous lover, one that Olivia grasped far better than most, one that still held so many secrets, so many new possibilities, so many alternate universes only slightly out of her reach. For years, Olivia had told herself that no human could ever compare or compete with the thrill and power of scientific innovation, and for all those years, it had been true. 

Until that very fortunate (or unfortunate, depending on your point of view) turn of events set in motion by a vexed humanities professor with blistered feet smacking headfirst into Doctor Olivia Octavius’ unassuming back. 

Olivia spun around on her heels, immediately focusing to inspect the face of a woman a touch her junior. She exuded clear frustration, with a grumpy expression and haggard appearance, a briefcase and a few books squeezed tight under her right arm. She regained her stance quickly, locking defiant eyes with the victim of her annoyed rushing, then began to mutter half-sincere apologies to Olivia, who only barely resisted the urge to reach out and touch her face to silence her unnecessary apologies.

_ Oh damn it all. _

The woman in front of her was breathtakingly beautiful, even in all of her disgruntled glory. Olivia found herself grinning and leaning down towards her, all of her inhibitions and rational guidance forgotten. Her coquettish manner of flirting was still somewhere in her memory, buried under layers and layers of frilly hair and physics. 

“No need for all the apologies sweetheart, after all, it was my back that so inconsiderately decided to be in your way. Are you in a hurry? If not, let me make it up to you with a coffee.”

\-------------------

This was a Monday straight from Hell, clearly sent to torture you for your sins. 

First, you had completely forgotten what you were supposed to be covering with your Art History students. Then, between having to prepare for the afternoon lecture, dropping a memo to a few colleagues in the Classics Department and getting swept away to listen to darling Professor Forrester prattle about her newest academic journal, you realized you didn’t have time for lunch. And like a rotten, filthy cherry to top off this cake of misery, your horrible choice of footwear had caused quite a few blisters to form on the soles of your feet. 

Frankly, you were surprised that smacking into a curly haired figure while stomping down the stairs didn’t completely snap the leash you had on all of your pent up frustration.

But now you were stuck in a completely different kind of predicament. See, the woman you had unceremoniously bumped into was, for lack of a better expression,  _ quite striking. And a little familiar.  _ She was tall and lanky with a sharp nose and jaw, octagonal glasses and a headful of dark, frilly hair. Silently you pondered where you’d seen this eccentrically appearing stranger before, carefully observing her every move, as she leaned in and...asked you out for coffee in apology for being in your way.

Naturally, you couldn’t refuse. 

“I haven’t even introduced myself, how terribly rude of me. I’m Doctor Olivia Octavius, Chief Scientist of Alchemax!” the woman announced, her eyes glinting in the yellow glow of the lamps overhead, her coffee held tight in her willowy fingers. 

_ Scientist. Alchemax. _ At those words, you tensed in your previously slumped stance, grip on your takeaway cup tightening. You had had your suspicions after your companion had brought up hydraulics and her interest in highly advanced robotics, and your suspicions were just confirmed true.  _ Of-fucking-course the hot stranger has to be in STEM. A woman in STEM perhaps, but it doesn’t change the fact that this is STEM we’re talking of. Can’t have anything on this god-forsaken Earth.  _ Preparing for the inevitable debate over the importance of the Humanities in comparison to STEM, you buried whatever stirring attraction you had initially felt into the pits of the well of disappointment, and masked a calm smile before responding.

“A pleasure to meet you, Doctor Octavius. (Name) (Surname), Professor and Doctor of Philosophy, with a Masters from English literary studies and art history, at your service.”

A storm began to churn in the pit of your stomach as you saw an arrogant, contemptuous sneer cross the face of your new acquaintance. You were not going to start arguing about this useless subject anymore. You were too old for such bullshit, in your own mind at the very least. 

“Aha, a well-read, educated and tenured woman. A shame that you chose such a wasteful approach to using your intellect,” Doctor Octavius drawled, her voice seeping with arrogance, and the directness of her statement caught you slightly off guard. Very few were ever that forthcoming with their scorn for your affiliation. 

It only fueled your anger, a spark bursting into a flame within your chest. You shot a vicious glare at this strange doctor that had the nerve to have you smack into her, flirt with you, take you to get coffee and then insult your life’s work to your face. You were finished with this game.

“I will say this once and I will say it clearly. You scientist types can do whatever the hell you please with your oh-so-mighty innovations, you can fuel your obsessions on ostensible “progress” as much as you damn well please, but don’t waltz in here to insult the people that hold this world together. For all I care, you can completely lose yourselves in that rapidly evolving high-tech future, forgetting your own humanity in the process and alienating yourselves from what you came from. But this is not your domain to judge. Sometimes I wonder if a little humanist’s grace would help bring your heads down from the ozone layer and maybe out of your own asses. “ 

Still powered by the force of all your frustration boiling over as if in a broken kettle, you snatched your briefcase from the floor and straightened your posture to be as menacing as possible. With a clipped voice and some of your courtesies regained, you addressed this regrettably hot embodiment of scientific arrogance that had barreled full force into your dreadful Monday. 

“Thank you for the coffee and have a pleasant evening,  _ doctor. _ “

And with that, you spun on around on your uncomfortable stilettos and stormed off, leaving nothing but the clack of your heels and a gust of churning air in your wake. 

Behind you, though no longer in your field of awareness, Doctor Olivia Octavius stood in silence, intensely staring at your retreating form. 

She could really just ignore the tug in her chest and forget about this little scene. In fact, that would be the logical, sensible thing to do, after all, she had matters far more pressing to attend to. But the smirk that broke over her sharp features immediately betrayed her desires. 

Olivia had found herself something of a new curiosity. And she was far too interesting of an opportunity to be wasted.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, kudos, comments and bookmarks always appreciated. I'm really bad at finishing stories but I'll try my best^^


End file.
